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Chautona Havig

Chautona Havig

Using story to connect YOU to the Master Storyteller

The Family Storyteller (and it isn’t who I thought it was!)

by Chautona Havig · 1 Comment

The storyteller.

If you said those words to me as a child, I would have immediately thought of one man–Grandpa Fullerton.  The man was a genius with words.  Now, honestly, when he began telling a story, there was a good chance you’d hear the “what should have happened” mingled with what the “did” happen.  As most storytellers do, he found himself almost unable to stick to bare facts sometimes.  And we all knew it.  I guess that means it was an “unwritten” understanding or something.  Doesn’t matter to me.  There was little more that I loved more than when Grandpa told  a story.

The Family Storyteller

But one thing I definitely loved more was when my dad did.  Dad had that rare talent of being able to tell the exact truth with such care and precision that it didn’t need varnish.  He smoothed the rough edges but left those edges there.  I guess you could say that Dad got a little “edgy” when he told a story.

In this way, Dad was like the greatest Storyteller of all time: Jesus.

I learned from Dad’s stories.  Although most were anecdotes from his life, occasionally he’d create an illustration that morphed into a story.  The earliest of these that I remember was when I was about four-years-old. To be brutally honest, I don’t recall what inspired it, and I suspect that I don’t want to.  I can see our living room in Fillmore, California as clearly as if I’d never left it.  We lived on Mountain View Street across from the elementary school.   There was an end table next to the couch and right beside the front door.  That is where my first story lesson began.

I must have either disobeyed or been appalled at my cousin’s disobedience (I often was–quite the self-righteous little twit even then!).  Dad hunkered down on his heels and tried to explain the difference between defiance and disobedience.  He pointed to the lamp and said, “Chautona….” Let me pause for a minute.  The day I realize I’ll never hear my father say my name on this planet is going to be one of the worst days of my life.  With one, three-syllable word, my father can convey pride, dismay, shame, rebuke, love, joy…. I’ve never heard anyone be able to express himself with many different emotions more than Dad when he speaks my name.

Okay, back to the story about Dad’s story.  So he said, “Chautona, (sigh) if I tell you not to touch this lamp, you know you aren’t supposed to.  But if you walk away, go play for a while and come back, forget, and then touch the lamp, that’s disobedience.  Yes, you didn’t obey.  But you forgot.  And forgetting makes it disobedience.  You’re still not supposed to touch the lamp.  Period. You still have to take responsibility for that.”  (Yes, my father spoke with a rather varied and strong vocabulary.  The first words I remember hearing were, “Slow down and enunciate.”  I knew what that meant by 2 years old.  I had kids in high school who didn’t know what enunciate meant.)

Then Dad gave another scenario.

“But let’s say I tell you not to touch the lamp and you look right at me and do it.  That is defiance.  It’s defiance if you remember later and do it anyway.  It’s defiance if you try to do it when I’m not looking and you know I’ll never know.  Disobedience can be overlooked when it’s truly a mistake or it’s been a long time.  Defiance can never be overlooked.”

Just a simple explanation of two related but distinct words, but it made such a huge impression on me that I’ve never forgotten it. Through Dad’s stories, I learned how to choose when to “tell” on someone (almost never) and when not to–and why.  I learned how to respect people I had found unrespectable.

Through those stories, I learned to understand the value of story.

Dad also used a different form of storytelling to teach me.  Seated on Uncle Lon’s hearth in Camarillo or a kitchen chair in Grandma’s apartment on Osborn, he’d pull his guitar from the pink flannel cover Grandma had made for it years earlier, and he’d play.  He sang old ballads like “Bonnie  Black Bess.”

When Dad played that song, you could hear the hoofbeats on the road to London–hoofbeats that would save Dick Turpin’s life and cost his horse, Bess, hers.  My throat would ache with the heartbreak of it all.  He’d sing of a blind child aching with the loss of her mother and the realization that a new mama was coming to their home.  I remember wondering how he could sing of her gravestone that read, “There’ll be no blind ones there.”  The first dozen times I attempted to sing it for myself, my voice cracked and broke trying to get through the last couple of verses.

He sang happier ones, of course.  “Concert Garden.”  I loved the story of a young man who left his friends to go home because “Somebody’s waiting for me. Somebody loves me I know.  Somebody’s wond’rin’ where I can be and what can be keeping me so.  Somebody’s heart is sad and waiting so anxiously.  There’s a light shining bright in a window tonight.  ‘Cause somebody’s waiting for me.”  He’s teased about his sweetheart, so he brings his friends home and points through the window where an old woman is praying.  He says, “She’s my mother, she’s my sweetheart, she’s the one I meant tonight….”

Those songs taught me values through their stories.

But I admit, I loved the heart-rending tales of songs like “Tragic Romance” and the typical romance of “California Joe” equally well. Those ballad writers–they were storytellers too.  And through those heart-wrenchers, I learned how to sympathize, how to “weep with those who weep.”  Through them, I learned that life is full of terribly painful moments, but we don’t live them alone.  Others have borne them and can help us thorugh it.  And in our turn, we will help others.

I had three songs I held in rotation.  I tried to be careful not to ask for each one too often.  “Blind Child’s Prayer” I asked for most, although it wasn’t my absolute favorite.  But it had fewer verses than my true favorite, “California Joe.”  That one has twenty-six verses with eight lines to a verse.   The tune to that one was the inspiration for my own ballad in Argosy Junction.  But, if no one else asked (I could never count on Uncle Lon.  His choice was always “The Ship.”), I would always go with “Cowboy Jack.”  For some reason, Dad never balked at that one.  Maybe it was short enough.  Maybe he loved it himself.  I never knew.

But, it’s why I chose it for the first of my Ballads from the Hearth series.  I wanted a book that epitomized the love our family has for these old songs.  I took Jack’s story and then everything went crazy.  But that’s another story altogether.  Strange, isn’t it.  All my life I’ve considered my mother’s father to be the storyteller of the family, but really, my father is the one I knew and loved best.

For the words to “Cowboy Jack”, see THIS POST.

 

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Comments

  1. Angela Martin says

    August 30, 2016 at 11:44 am

    I just got your email and took a moment to pray for you, asking God’s hands on your computer, your ministry, and your characters. Just wanted you to know! Hugs and blessings!

    Reply

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The Because Fiction Podcast

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Taking the pulse of Christian fiction

Episode 234: A Chat about The Chosen Kids with RM Ruiz
byChautona Havig

Remember when you were a kid and you wanted to help with whatever the family was doing, so Great Aunt Tissy gave you a stack of napkins and told you to put one at each plate? Remember how she commented on what a  “big girl” you were?  And then, as if that weren’t bad enough… remember how you were fourteen and a “big girl” was the last thing you wanted to be? 

RM Ruiz’ The Chosen Kids Saga does just the opposite. She has a cast of related characters who are given real work by God–important work. They’re pulling on the armor of God and doing real battle with real enemies of the Kingdom of God and all while He works out their sanctification. Listen in to where she got the idea and where the Chosen Kids are going next.

Note: links may be affiliate links that provide me with a small commission at no extra expense to you!

What if God Decided to Use Ordinary Kids to Battle the Underworld?

Can I just say that I love the respect Rosemary shows her characters? These kids, as young as eleven, aren’t told to fold napkins and praised as if they saved the world. They’re given tools and assignments and do save the world… or at least a piece of it and with the real help of the Holy Spirit. How cool is that?

And she does it with a tortilla in one hand and some eye and mouth-watering chili stuffs in the other.

Oh… and don’t forget the research for Encounter at Paradise that sent her up a literal slippery slope into frozen tundra. In July. #BecauseResearch.

And the result is book two of the Chosen Kids Saga! (To listen to the first episode where we talked more about the first book, go HERE.)

The Chosen Kids: Encounter at Paradise by RM Ruiz

A thrilling adventure for middle-grade readers, showcasing the supernatural powers of God, His son Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.This is the second book of The Chosen Kids Saga.The Chosen Kids are ready for their second mission!

It’s been two weeks since Caiden and his family’s summer of fun turned into a secret quest for God. After their first mission, the Chosen Kids step into their new roles without fear or reluctance. With revived faith and God’s blessed tools, they embark on their second hunt—ready to track, capture, and expel the enemy.

But the day turns into a tedious game of hide-and-seek as the family races to get ahead of the fiend. When the unthinkable happens, and their mission becomes personal, they must keep the faith and trust God’s plan. They could set things right with the Holy Spirit’s guidance, but only if they obey His commands completely. Caiden thinks he’s uncovered the answer, but no one ever listens to the youngest cousin…

With nightfall quickly approaching, the Chosen Kids set a trap.

But if their plan fails, they could lose one of their most valuable assets, and their quest will end in heartbreak and disaster.

In this next chapter of the Chosen Kids Saga, readers will see the cousins in action as they take on their new roles with renewed spirits. Just like the first book, this fast-paced adventure includes family love, kid banter, and humor with even more adventure, danger, and spiritual growth!

This series mixes fantasy and adventure elements with transparent Christian themes for young believers who want a story that includes gospel truths without reading through symbolism.

Middle-grade readers will follow along as these flawed, relatable characters—still finding their way in Christ—embark on a life-transforming quest to save humanity. With family love, spiritual growth, kid banter, and humor all mixed in for a fun and exciting journey.

The adventure starts with Encounter at the Dunes and continues in Encounter at Paradise. Grab a copy of both to begin the redemptive journey today! Book three, Encounter At Ambrose, coming summer 2024.

Learn more about the series, the characters, and Rosemary at TheChosenKids.com

And the series she mentioned was The Son of Angels.

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Episode 234: A Chat about The Chosen Kids with RM Ruiz
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